Astrid sat alone in her home, hidden in the backwoods, poring over the stack of pictures and letters again to see if she could make any tiny, minuscule connection. There always seemed to be some link to them, but she could never connect the dots. It felt like it should be obvious to her. So obvious that she could sense it buried just under the surface of her brain, ready to explode from its hiding place and greet her in a sudden surge of remembrance. But the memories never came as anything more than just another piece to the vast puzzle that she was beginning to feel she would never complete. Her short black hair that usually framed her square face beautifully in a choppy, casual, wind-blown sort of way, fell down around her deep green eyes as she let her head fall into her hands in a sharp gesture of defeat. A sense of devastation, a divine sense of loss over-took her as she gradually let go of any last vestiges of hope and tried to accept that she may never discover the identities of the occupants of any of her pictures. Her pictures. Ha! She couldn’t even really be sure they were hers. She only had a nagging sense of nostalgia hovering at the edges of her consciousness when she saw them. That was her only indication that they were significant to her somehow. That they belonged to her. It was hard to describe, but if she had to, she would have said that it was a lot like having a conversation with someone about a really great band, song or movie that you’d heard or seen a hundred times, but could never remember the name of. Always dangling right there on the tip of your tongue, but you can never get it to emerge.
And the letters. Always the letters. Beautifully written; almost poetic. Astrid so wished that she could be sure they were hers as well, but she felt even less connected to these. The letters did not bring the same nostalgia that the pictures did. They only brought with them an immense pool of confusion and an intense desire to discover the author. She didn’t remember ever seeing these before the day she opened the bag that contained them, although it was very possible that she could have. There wasn’t anything else she remembered so who’s to say she hadn’t simply forgotten that, too? But how could anyone just forget such stunning photographs and dazzling words as the ones printed on the paper she now held in her hands? Astrid felt sure these were not with her by accident, but equally unsure and curious as to whether or not it was her who brought them along or if they were just left there with her in the woods. If it wasn’t her they belonged to, who then? And why would she have them?
The letters did not contain the name of the person they were meant for or the name of the person who had written them. She did know that the author was a male. She could tell by the handwriting of course, but her main indication that the author was a man was simply intuition. They were always signed “Yours,” and nothing else. There was room for a signature at the bottom, but for some odd reason, the author never felt compelled to sign them. Astrid assumed the reason for that was because ‘yours’ was truly what he was to the female in which he wrote. He was hers and so there was no need for him to elaborate on his identity, to be known to her by any other name. It was sickeningly romantic and she sighed inwardly at the rare prospect that such a man could exist. Of course, she couldn’t tell anyone this- it didn’t fit in with her projected reputation of independence and pure self-reliance and honestly, it was quite embarrassing to be a closet romantic.
Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door. Speaking of romance. She quickly shoved the mess of photographs and letters back into their shoebox and rushed to hide it under her bed before she went to answer the door. She was not expecting company, but she knew who it would be and she was happy for the distraction he presented as well as just his company in general. The excruciatingly handsome Jacob Alexander Cage-or, Alex, which is what Astrid called him-with his soft, dark hair that usually looked as if he’d just climbed out of bed, turquoise colored eyes that in certain kinds of light looked to be a beautiful shade of pale green, fair skin that was only a shade or two darker than her own; he was her boyfriend, if that word could be applied to two adults in their twenties.
She’d been seeing him pretty regularly for the past several months, except when need called him out of town unexpectedly. She really liked where things were going with him, but at the same time, she felt hesitant in continuing to move forward. Not because she was unsure about Alex himself. It was a serious case of it’s-not-you-it’s-me syndrome holding her back. It seemed they were gradually getting pretty serious though and yet he knew nothing of the stolen life she so desperately searched for.
Astrid knew she should tell him-it would not only be comforting to have someone to confide in, but it would also be therapeutic just to be able to tell someone she trusted the truth-but something always made her hesitate. She had a strange feeling sometimes that he already knew without her even having to mention it, but of course, that was impossible. He was just perceptive. He knew she was sometimes secretive, stressed and had a lot on her mind, but there was no way he could know what. If he knew how many childhood memories she had fabricated just to keep from telling him the awful truth-that she didn’t know anything about her life, nothing about herself…
It was not that she was ashamed. It was just too hard to explain and she didn’t want to explain to anyone who wasn’t going to be made a permanent part of her life. She didn’t want to seem unhinged, or have him feel sorry for her by telling him she remembered nothing that happened before that horrible night in the woods. It was as if she had fallen into a deep sleep after birth and didn’t wake until she was in her twenties, or at least she had eventually decided that she was in her twenties. She didn’t know how old she really was, she didn’t know her birthday or anything about her life prior to the moment she woke up in an isolated forest in the freezing rain all alone and panicky. It was exceedingly disorienting. She felt completely cut off and separate from the rest of the world. As if everyone else belonged here and she didn’t.
Everyone else had friends, a family, or if they didn’t, they at least had memories of them or some idea where they were and why those people were no longer a part of their lives. As devastating as she knew it was to those who had lost loved ones and remembered every detail, she would give anything to trade places with any of those people right now. To be able to trade this ambiguous darkness for incontrovertible truth- that is what she desired more than anything in the world. The fact that she was sometimes paranoid, had incredibly weird dreams and flashbacks of things she didn’t even know where hidden in her brain that were often triggered by a mysteriously familiar name, place or smell- she wouldn‘t bother Alex (or anyone) with that knowledge just yet. Then there was that other thing she could do...oh well, I’ll think about that later. That was her constant refrain when it came to what to do about her relationship with Alex and her very literal search for herself.
Astrid opened the door looking forward to the happiness and the relief she knew she would feel when she saw his face. Just the thought of him outside her door caused her to warm up inside, relax, get comfortable within herself which was something she often had an incredible degree of difficulty with. She felt like she was consistently fighting with herself about who she really was inside. Not who she woke up to be, but who she felt she must have been before it all turned black. Alex made her feel like she had never forgotten anything. It was as though he was the only thing she had in her previous life that managed to carry on into this one. Undoubtedly, he was not a part of her life before, but it was easy to let herself believe it when she was near him. She had a deep feeling of kinship with him that she couldn’t describe even to herself. He was always so bright, so boundlessly happy. She on the other hand, always felt dark, cold and distant; unless, of course, she was with Alex. It was your typical ‘opposites attract’ scenario, only she didn‘t feel opposite of Alex at all when they were together. She felt exactly the same as him, like who she was in his absence was just a lie; a mask covering her true identity.
He always had a big grin painted across his gorgeous face when she saw him. Something that only made him more attractive, as he had the most perfect set of straight, white teeth she had ever seen. It made her happy to see him happy and to add to that the thought that he was happy to be seeing her just made it all the more intoxicating. The smile she expected to see was there and his light eyes sparkled with anticipation. He was not only happy to see her, but he was as anxious to spend the night in her presence as she was in his. “Alex! Come on in!” she said with excitement saturating her voice. “I’m sorry, I probably should have called first, but I just got back in town and…I didn’t have the patience to pick up a phone.” His wide, beautiful smile turned to a mischievous grin as he shrugged at the last part. “Lazy”, she teased. He chuckled as he stepped inside and gave her a hug. Astrid loved to hug Alex. He was always so warm and aside from that, he was tall (six foot two to be exact) and muscular so his arms always encircled her completely. It was a place where she felt infinitely safe and adored-because she was. It was a welcome change from the bitter desolation she normally felt. When he let go of her it was too soon for Astrid’s liking, but she didn‘t argue. She didn’t want to seem like some delicate damsel waiting eagerly for her knight to come save her. Astrid was a grown woman. A strong woman. Or that was what she frequently instructed herself to believe when she felt these softhearted, feminine emotions. She couldn’t afford to be weak, to rely on anyone else.
She gave a nearly inaudible sigh as she unwound her arms and asked him to come sit down. As she turned to walk back to her living room to the left of the entry-way, Alex grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. She looked up at him, a little surprised at the unexpected action, when he lowered his head and kissed her gently, yet just as urgently as if this was their last kiss or, perhaps, the first kiss after a painfully long separation. Alex had never kissed Astrid like this. The urgency and passion in this kiss was so much different than the sweet, dreamy kisses he had given her before and with each second that passed, it became even more forceful. It lit a fire inside her that rapidly made its way up from the tips of her toes, spreading out through all her limbs, blazing hot, until it reached her lips. An invisible magnetism pulled the two of them together and an electricity so powerful that neither of them could escape it, had they even felt inclined to, bound them in a seemingly permanent state of euphoria. Alex wrapped his strong arms securely around Astrid’s waist and nearly lifted her off the floor in his attempt to pull her even further into him, as if getting any closer than they already were could be possible without crossing some very intimate lines. At this point, Astrid wouldn’t have cared. His lips were warm and soft, yet burning with a passion so intense she couldn’t fathom the cause behind it, nor did she care at this very moment. She only cared that he not stop. Ever.
It seemed to her that as soon as she thought the word, he was pulling away. She reluctantly loosened her fingers from his silky dark hair, wondering when she had put them there in the first place, and disentangled herself from Alex’s arms for the second time in a whole five minutes. All the time she kept her focus on the floor, embarrassed at her display of apparent enthusiasm and her brief wishes that the kiss would progress even further. At this thought, it felt like her cheeks were on fire, but it wasn’t the same fire she felt spreading through her body moments ago. This was the heat of humiliation rising to give her away. She quickly squared her shoulders and strode toward the living room to escape his beaming stare, careful to make her steps seem more confident and unaffected than she actually felt. Alex could see through her pretenses and was obviously quite pleased with himself. He lowered his head in mock apology, trying to look rueful and failing miserably. “What can I say? I missed you,” He said with another shrug. This time, he couldn’t stop his perfect lips from twitching into a smile, his eyes from flickering with a light glow. At this, Astrid couldn’t help but laugh at herself. She had been so embarrassed at showing an enthusiasm for something that he was just as enthusiastic about and they both clearly enjoyed themselves so there was no reason to feel ashamed or try to hide it.
Alex didn’t know it, but he could always put things in perspective for her with very little effort on his part. After all, it was just a kiss. An amazing kiss quite honestly, but still just a kiss all the same. Something they had done frequently since they started dating…nothing to get worked up about. Or at least that’s what she told herself. She might as well stop trying to pretend; it was a vain effort anyway as the slight smile on Alex’s face plainly told her he wasn’t buying her casual disregard for the incident. “I missed you, too…I guess that was pretty obvious though, huh?” Astrid snickered shyly, casting her eyes away from his radiant face, still slightly embarrassed even though she knew the feeling was senseless. “Nah. I was actually a little disappointed at your lack of interest”, a playful sarcasm coloring his tone. Her eyes shot up to meet his face in spirited defiance. “I can’t help it if you’re an exceptionally bad kisser, Alex.” Astrid replied seriously. She was able to keep a straight face the whole time while Alex sat down on the couch next to her and positioned his face so that it was exceedingly close to her own, but when he opened his mouth and said softly, “I guess you’ll just have to teach me then”, it was too cliché- like a scene from a movie- for her to contain her laughter. Astrid and Alex were so in sync with one another that she knew that’s what he would say before he even sat down and he knew what Astrid’s reaction would be before the words even left his lips. They were laughing together now, the awkward mood from the too exuberant kiss completely broken.
After so many months, why a kiss like that shared between two people who were incontestably falling in love, should be awkward would have been considered strange to most people, but for Astrid it was awkward because she did not easily place herself in the power of other people. She had rules about seeming to be vulnerable and love was most certainly a vulnerable emotion. Alex, who understood her far better than she realized, knew this without her having to tell him. He was completely fascinated by Astrid and deeply curious about so many other things about her, but he did know she had quite an aversion to any emotion that would make her appear, at least in her mind, to be weak. He knew that it was also the reason neither of them had told the other how acutely attached to one another they were becoming. He did not have the same fears about love and loss that she had, but Alex understood those fears as if they were his own; enough so that he instinctively knew now was not the time to start proclaiming himself, although the kiss he had just given her was certainly a bold insinuation of the fact that he was profoundly affected by her. But of course, he would keep his mouth shut. For now.
It was an easy relationship, comfortable and natural for the two of them. He was the one person in the world Astrid felt truly relaxed around and Alex had no desire to do anything that might change that. Astrid was so relaxed, in fact, that she felt like a different person in his presence, the person she felt she must genuinely be; who she was in her heart and soul. So how could she still be so wavering when it came to the idea of love? If she was being completely honest with herself, she already knew she loved Alex. What was the harm in admitting it to him? The harm was that he could break her heart, as commonplace as that might sound . He could disappear like the rest of her life had. He could break her heart now anyway, but at least if he did, he wouldn’t know that he had. She could still retain some dignity of character. If she ever told him how much she truly cared for him and needed him in her life he might decide he didn’t want to be tangled up in her female neediness. She suspected that what kept him hanging around now was the challenge of bending such a capable woman to his will. No. That wasn’t really Alex and she knew it, but it was easier to cope with that lie than to face the truth that he might actually find her enthralling. He deserved so much more than the broken pieces that were all she could offer him. How could she ever give him any semblance of happiness when her only source of happiness was in Alex himself? It would be like re-gifting at Christmas.
As the laughter subsided Astrid realized there wasn‘t a thing for them to do. Since she didn’t know he was coming over, she’d had no time to make any sort of plans. Of course, this didn’t bother Alex, but she was a terrible hostess and so rather than wasting her time trying to act the part, she simply asked him what he wanted to do. “Whatever you were doing before I very rudely interrupted and kissed you senseless” was his very nonchalant response. Remembering what she had just been doing, she had an odd vision of herself coursing through the letters with Alex and could even hear him making hilarious, uncomplimentary remarks about the author. Maybe he would wonder who had written those exquisite things to her and then what would she tell him? Oh these aren’t mine. But then whose are they? It would make her look like a prying fool to be keeping someone else’s love letters in a box or worse, a hopeless romantic so desperate she was even willing to dream about someone else’s passionate interludes.
Then, it struck her that no one would ever write her letters like that, which instantly made her feel even more pathetic. Alex never disappointed her, but she would be lying if she said she wouldn’t feel amazingly special if he wrote her something, anything, as beautiful as what she’d been reading night after night, trying to prick some kind of memory or realization in her mind. But then the only other thing she could say is that they were hers and that was infinitely worse than admitting they weren’t. She would be mortified if he knew she found such preposterous things gratifying. It would only enforce for him something she would never openly admit. That she was weak and delicate. She thought the word like it was a filthy, disease contaminated thing. Something entirely undesirable, at least to her. She also didn’t want to have to make up a previous boyfriend with which she had fallen madly in love. A lie like that would only get her into more trouble. She could lie about childhood pets without fear of further interrogation easy enough, but old boyfriends were out. She had already gambled enough by prevaricating a family she knew didn’t exist.
It took her about five seconds to deliberate on all this before she finally told him she was just about to cook herself some dinner and asked if he‘d like to help. She’d already eaten, but he didn’t know that and cooking with Alex was bound to be an interesting affair as neither one of them would ever come close to being a culinary genius. They walked to the kitchen trying to decide what they could concoct with the limited resources. Astrid knew there was barely anything edible in her kitchen that wasn‘t frozen, but that only presented her with the challenge of trying to make up something slightly appetizing before Alex did. He could be quite imaginative when he wanted to be. As they passed through the entry-way, hand in hand, Astrid had a fleeting memory of the kiss that made her body feel like a blazing flame. Abruptly she knew just what sounded appetizing to her and it wasn’t anything she’d find in her cupboards.
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CONTINUE TO CHAPTER TWO: CLICK HERE
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